The Red Years
by Willowth'Wisp
Summary: A series of oneshots hooked together in a loose sort of story to flesh out the life of Astoria Greengrass, from the impact of pure-blood propaganda, to the troubles of being not quite as Slytherin as she thought, to struggling to fit as a raven in a den of snakes, all with some...interesting results. (Drastoria)
1. Chapter 1

Astoria smothered a giggle behind her hand as she listened to her sister count down from twenty. She sucked in her breath and held it, afraid even the slightest whisper of sound would give her away, and she didn't want that. Her excitement over the game of hide-and-seek was doubled by the fact that _Merlin's Pants, she was in her father's office!_ Astoria had outwitted him! He probably had no idea when she told him that there was a gnome attack in the garden, she was _really_ going to sneak into his super-secret office with Daphne! Ha!

Her hand was splayed against the mahogany desk her father was so very proud of, and it levered her balance as Astoria's breathing quickened, excitement surging through her veins as Daphne called delightedly, "Zero! Ready or not, here I come!"

The little witch bit her lip to keep from laughing as she wondered what her father would think when he found the distinctly gnome-less garden. It would take forever, because he was as thorough as a cat cleaning itself, so she had plenty of time to hide from Daphne's prying eyes. Then they could explore the office and examine his knickknacks and- and all sorts of things! However, her thoughts condensed into keeping herself hidden as she heard the doorknob turn and the soft pad of feet on the lush carpet. _Daphne!_

Unable to help herself, Astoria giggled. Horrified with herself a moment later, she clapped a hand over her mouth even as Daphne whipped her head around the corner and her face split into a grin. "Ha! Found you!"

"No!" she protested, giggling so hard she fell over backwards. "No fair! I laughed!"

"That's your own fault! You should've been sneakier!" Despite her words, Daphne grinned at her, and Astoria grinned back. The sisters had similar facial features, and it showed especially in their smiles. Where Daphne's long gold hair was the sun-spun color of gold and her eyes the icy blue of a winter sky, Astoria's hair was an inky swath only a few shades lighter than her onyx eyes. Their straight noses and delicately rounded chins marked them as unmistakably Greengrasses, but their identical smiles marked them as sisters.

Astoria huffed with grumpiness that held no real gloom to it and hauled herself to her slippered feet, smiling a moment later. However, as she pulled herself upright, her toes dug down on the trailing hem of her silken dress, and the seven-year-old witch pitched forward with a yelp. She crashed into Daphne, bringing both girls down in a heap.

"Hey!" Daphne protested, sitting upright a moment later and starting to laugh. "What was _that_ for?"

Startled only for a moment more than her sister, Astoria too began to giggle. "It wasn't on _purpose!_ "

Though Daphne's grin was as bright as a new penny, it soon faded as her eyes dropped to her pale pink dress, and it turned into a full-blown frown as she picked at the skirt. A moment later, she moaned, "Tori, look at what you've done!"

She blinked and lowered her eyes to the soft fabric. "Huh-? Oh."

She reached for the little tear with careful fingers, but Daphne smacked them away and stood, her cheeks pink and a crease between her pale eyebrows. Her expression was stormy, and Astoria's eyes widened with distress. She hastily pulled herself to her feet once more, this time managing not to fall, and reached for her sister imploringly.

"Daphy-Taffy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-!"

"You _ruined_ it!" she wailed, her face screwing up with the onslaught of oncoming tears, and Astoria's distress increased at the sight of hers.

"Don't cry," she begged. "Mama can mend it with a spell. It'll be alright-"

"I _knew_ this was a bad idea!" she yelled, tears starting to fall thick and fast, and Astoria watched with horror as Daphne swiped at them furiously and glared at her with such intensity that the smaller girl shriveled. "We could've played hide-and-seek _anywhere_!"

Still glaring at her hard enough to punch holes right through her, Daphne shoved Astoria backwards with all the force her nine-year-old arms could muster. Astoria let out a cry as she toppled backwards right into a tapestry, and it ripped off its bar, collapsing onto her. The cloth closed on her like being sealed inside an envelope, plunging the young witch into darkness.

She lay stunned for a moment, wondering if she was about to cry, before pleading, "Daphne, wait!"

She heard the stomp of tiny feet on the floor and then the slam of a door, and Astoria knew she was on her own. Then the tears did come, flooding upwards and spilling down her cheeks, stinging her eyes. She cried, rocking on her knees and curling up to make herself smaller. The tapestry still lay over her back, pooling over her, and after a few minutes in which Astoria felt utterly wretched, she sniffed away the last of her tears and struggled to extricate herself from the heavy cloth.

Still sniffling, she stood unsteadily and gazed down at the tapestry, a sudden weight dropping onto her lungs. Her father would surely find out what had happened if she left it like this. However, those worries flew out the window as Astoria raised her eyes and let them fall on the giant black hole that gaped like a mouth directly behind where the tapestry once hung.

She blinked, staring at it, too surprised to move. What was it?

She stepped forward, wobbling slightly as her foot fell on the rumpled cloth, and she touched the walls. After a moment of speculation, she decided it must be a tunnel. Perhaps it was a secret passage!

Excitement flooded her veins, chasing away the last of the guilt with fizzy giddiness. At least, for now.

Looking around, Astoria spied fairy-lights lining the walls, lighting their own circle of orange light around the false-flames and spreading purplish, dusky light over the rest of the stone tunnel. So Astoria stepped through, eyes probing the gloom, wondering where it could possibly lead. As she ventured further into the darkness, she felt a lurch as her foot fell onto a step that she hadn't expected. She blinked, looking down, her eyes adjusting to the darkening light as she realized with a surge of excitement that she had come to a staircase.

Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she felt a pang of longing. Usually, this was the sort of thing she'd explore with Daphne.

Biting her lip, Astoria pushed onward- or rather, downward. She circled down, down, down, until her feet ached and the fine drape of her dress was gathering dust. She knew that she lived in an old manor that had soaked up secrets like a sponge throughout the years that generations of her family had lived here, but she'd been sure that she'd discovered all the ones that it had to offer. Sometimes it was Daphne who found a secret passage, and sometimes it was her who found the gem that brightened the longer one touched it. She was very proud of that find, even though her mother scolded her for the thousandth time for sticking her nose in places that she shouldn't.

But how else would she find answers? Surely, surely she was old enough now. She was seven! She was big enough for this, at least! Spooky passages didn't scare her.

When Astoria at last reached the end, she blinked, her dark eyes taking in the strange sight.

It looked a little like a junkyard, except it was...organized chaos. Wooden benches lined the walls, on which there was all manner of objects. Drippy jewels, corked bottles with potions glinting within, columns of golden spiderwebs that climbed up the walls like ivy, broken bottles that still gleamed, mussed feathers, discarded coins, woolen scarfs, hats striped in bright colors, scales the size of her hand and others no bigger than a Knut, and even a few small birds which twittered away at the intruder.

Astoria stared in open-mouthed shock.

There were other, less pleasant things. On a pedestal sat a fuzzy cushion with a plump, blackened hand that remained as still as if it was made of plaster. A skull lay among a mess of gold and silver coins. A huge, looming cabinet stood at a height even taller than her father. A bowl of rotted fruit with a conspicuous lack of flies abuzz over it (Astoria suspected the birds) sat proudly atop the mess. She even spotted what looked like a ripped Invisibility Cloak, its purple threads worn.

Perhaps most disconcerting of all was a picture on the opposite side of the rooms, larger across than her even with her arms thrown wide and taller than her by a foot or so. It's subject was a- a- Well, she wasn't sure what it was. If she had to hazard a guess, she'd say it was a man, but his face was chalky white and his head was utterly hairless. His eyes were slit-shaped and as Astoria tentatively neared the picture, she realized with a sudden jolt in her stomach that they were red. So red that they made her think of spilled garnets, of pomegranates exploding with luscious seeds, of the vibrant feathers of a noble-breasted phoenix. They made her think of blood and battlefields and suffering. They made her think of things she shouldn't even know about.

Astoria didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the creature with the red, red, red eyes. A huge snake lay draped around his shoulders, and he sat at a wooden table that looked...oddly familiar, when she pulled her gaze away from his long enough to examine the rest of the framed picture.

She lifted her eyes to the creature's once more, and then she took a step back, away from him- it. Fear, irrational and overwhelming, flooded her senses. She couldn't understand why this awful picture was here, in her home. It was creepy.

Then heavy footfalls sounded behind her, making Astoria jump so hard that she knocked a tarnished platter clatter to the floor and she squeaked with dismay.

Then her father, Samuel Greengrass, appeared at the end of the stairway with his fair hair askew and his olive-green eyes wide with something like panic. But that couldn't be. Not her cool, composed, distant father. Sure enough, whatever it was was gone in a moment as his gaze came to rest on his youngest daughter.

"Astoria," he said, and the little girl felt a pit of nerves widen in her stomach, though she was surprised to find that none of the sternness that she had expected in his words was present.

He crossed the room, took her hand, and led her away from the portrait. She glanced over her shoulder at the creature, wondering yet again what it was. She'd never seen anything like that in the storybooks Mother read to her.

"Father," she said, pulling on his sleeve, and he looked down at her with one foot poised on the step.

"Yes?"

"Are you mad?" she asked softly, that worry the first that needed to be alleviated, and though his expression did not change, she thought she saw something in his eyes soften. He bent to be on eye-level with her, brushing a lock of dark hair off her forehead.

"I am displeased that you lied to me. We are Greengrasses, Astoria, and we do not lie to one another. And as for my office..." His frown made Astoria drop her eyes and study her flowered shoes. He sighed and cupped her chin, tilting her face back up to his. "Don't you think there's a good reason why I'd ask you to leave my office alone?"

"I suppose..." she murmured, abashed, then had a sudden thought. "So what is that reason, then?"

It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw the corners of his lips twitch upward. She hoped it wasn't her imagination. He hardly ever smiled, and even more rarely was it because of her.

Instead of answering her question, he placed a hand on her back and turned her to face the picture she'd just been studying with such revulsion. "Astoria, I'm going to tell you a story, about a great man."

A smile began to creep onto her face. She liked the sound of that. Stories were familiar and safe, though Father wasn't usually the one who told them to her. She looked at him expectantly, hope scrawled across her round, still child-like features.

"Once upon a time," he began, and she smiled at the familiar opening, "the world was filled with many, many different types of people, just as there are now. There were non-magic people, and they were called Muggles. And then there were the magic-users, called wizards and witches, like you and me."

Astoria listened intently, wondering what this had to do with the monster on the wall, but drawn into the lull of the story by his voice, which was unusually softened by the tale.

"The wizards and witches had a natural right to govern those without magic, because it's only natural for someone who has greater abilities to rule over another."

Astoria frowned, not understanding, and he hastened to clarify. "It's like how we own dogs and cats. They're cute and useful, of course, but they're still not as smart as we are. The range of things that they can do are limited compared to the things people can. It's the same concept, you understand?"

She didn't, not quite, but she nodded slowly anyway, because that was the answer that he was expecting and she wanted to hear the rest of the story. Besides, one didn't disagree with her father. Not really.

"Well, people began to rebel against that idea. They believed that somehow, Muggles and wizards were equal," There was a hardness to her father's face when he said that word, and Astoria wondered at it, "even though the lack of magic was an obvious defect. And there was one man who tried to restore that balance, Astoria. He wanted to put the world back to the way that it is meant to be."

"What was his name?" she interrupted curiously.

Her father smiled slightly, but it was one of distraction, so it didn't count as a real smile. "I'll tell you when you're older. But you've seen him."

"I have?"

He nodded behind her, and with a lurch of dread, Astoria realized who he meant even without turning to look at it. _That_ was the savior he was talking about?

"But because Muggles and wizards intermingling had become so entrenched in society, the man was struck down. He wasn't allowed to say his piece, he wasn't allowed to tell them how this mixing was a disease that needed to be rooted out, because people are always afraid of the truth, sweet girl. The truth is not kind."

"What did the people do to him? Did he die?" asked Astoria slowly, struggling to interpret the words her father was telling her. She didn't really know how to feel about it, but then again, she'd never met a non-magical person. Maybe they really were inferior to her. It did make sense in a way- if one person could do magic and the other couldn't, the choice seemed obvious of which was better.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't be sure. I hope not. But for now, sweet girl, let's go eat dinner. I'm sure the house-elves are wondering where we've gone."

Hands sliding under her arms, he hoisted her up into his arms, and Astoria wrapped her arms around his neck and twined her ankles together around her father's waist. As he turned to mount the steps, Astoria was presented once more with the sight of the creature that Father said was a savior. She watched it, she looked into those sanguine eyes that made her think of such awful things, and she didn't dare tell her father how much the savior scared her.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello lovelies. :) This is just a random idea I had that kinda took off, lol. Welcome to the world of a writer. :P Basically, this is a series of oneshots to highlight and flesh out Astoria's life, and it could be counted as a Draco/Astoria love story. :P  
Leave a review, if you please!**

 **Blanket Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or the world, nor am I making profit off of them. I own only the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

Astoria skipped alongside Daphne, who was looking proud and important with her shoulders thrown back and her eyes sparkling with badly concealed excitement.

It wasn't the first time Astoria had been to Diagon Alley, nor was it even the first time she'd been there to collect Hogwarts supplies, but it _was_ the first time she'd been there to collect her _own_ Hogwarts supplies. _Hers_. Not her cousins', not Daphne's, no- She was finally going to Hogwarts.

The girl flung an excited look at the cart trundling before her, with a stack of her brand-spanking-new books with their smooth leather covers and buckled straps, the golden cauldron (because she was a Greengrass, and they settled for nothing less; or at least, that's what Daphne told her when she pulled it off the shelf) in which she'd dumped much of her packaged Potions ingredients, and atop the precariously stacked pile of books sat a wire cage. In it, a handsome barn owl swung a cynical tawny gaze around the bustling streets, hooting disapprovingly from time-to-time. He was her favorite thing that she'd bought so far, and she'd decided to call him Apollo for the lustrous golden wing feathers he kept meticulously neat.

"Where to next?" she inquired of her sister eagerly, barely resisting the urge to bounce at her side, and Daphne consulted the list.

"Your wand and your robes," she answered, then added thoughtfully, "I think we should do your wand last. That can take _forever,_ honestly..." Grumbling, she stowed the slip of paper in her pocket and tugged on Astoria's sleeve to lead her around a corner, letting a giggle loose as they nearly slipped in a puddle of greasy rainwater.

Whenever they came here, Astoria couldn't help but gaze with unveiled fascination at the shenanigans that often went down on these cobbled streets. There had been a hippogriff with his handler, shifty con-artists in every corner that her mother or sister had dragged her away from time and time again (they had fantastic stories to tell!), and once, Astoria was sure she'd seen a werewolf in a pub. Of course, she'd wandered off to go see that particular building, because she was quite curious as to why she was forbidden to go there. She was eleven years old, for goodness sake, not _two_. She was sure she'd be able to handle it, and was thoroughly convinced her parents were being overprotective, as usual. The gaunt woman in the corner with her ragged clothes certainly looked like the image of a werewolf her imagination had conjured.

"Here we are!" Daphne announced brightly, pulling Astoria out of her thoughts, and she looked up at the merry sign swinging over the door. A smile spread across her face, because she was quite fond of Madam Malkin and was fairly sure the seamstress felt the same way for her.

Daphne parked the cart, mounted the steps, and pushed open the doors. Astoria obediently followed her, though she glanced at the cart and interjected, "Wait, won't that get stolen?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Of course not, Tori, we're Greengrasses. Who would dare?"

She shrugged. "I saw a lot of shifty people out there. I don't think it'd be very practical to just leave it-"

"Oh, you worry too much, little goose. Come on!" Daphne pulled her inside, and Astoria shrugged with resignation, but after a moment's thought, she ran back out, Daphne's confused cry echoing behind her.

She lifted Apollo's cage off the cart with care, tucked him securely under her arm, and slipped back inside.

"The rest of that stuff is replaceable," she explained at her sister's questioning look and then added with a grin, "Besides, Madam Malkin loves me. I'm sure she'll be fine with it."

Daphne's expression cleared and she laughed. "Spoken like a true Slytherin!"

Astoria smiled too, feeling a flare of pride, and looked around the little shop. Her smile widened as the familiar, accented voice of Madam Malkin called from behind a shelf full of pretty fabrics, "I'll be with you in a moment, dears!"

Apollo hooted boredly, and she absentmindedly poked a finger through the thin bars to stroke his soft feathers.

"I wonder how he'll get along with Talia," said Daphne, referring to her tuxedo cat, and Astoria giggled at the thought.

"I hope he doesn't try to eat her."

"More like she'd try to eat him!"

This sparked a mini-debate, which Astoria was sure she was winning, but before she could deliver the crushing blow, Madam Malkin bustled out from the labyrinth of shelves. She smiled widely at the Greengrass sisters, and Astoria grinned back.

"Ah, my two little lovelies," she cooed. "Astoria, darling, you're starting your first year of Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"Yes!" she answered eagerly, setting Apollo's cage down on the chair and bouncing towards her, before remembering that she was supposed to be more dignified. Her mother had begun coming down a little harder than she usually did, reminding her that she had the pureblood pride to uphold. So instead she straightened her steps, trying to mimic Daphne's flowing walk.

It might have been her imagination, but she thought Madam Malkin's coin-bright smile faded a little bit as she watched Astoria reorient her walk, but she stashed it in the back of her mind as the older woman set a warm hand on her back and steered her further into the walls of cloth. "Come along, dear, I'm sure we'll find something lovely for you."

"Thanks," Astoria answered warmly. Out of the periphery, she noticed Daphne sauntering down another aisle, her intent expression telling her that she intended to browse while she got outfitted.

The next fifteen minutes or so were spent inspecting a slew of black robes (because Astoria had opted for simplicity, even though her status would probably have let her sneak by with colored robes if she wanted; that's what Daphne did), and once she settled on several pairs, Madam Malkin began tailoring them to fit her straight frame. Astoria bit her lip with a faint touch of embarrassment as she had to take it in in several areas, and she found herself thinking of the curves Daphne was already gaining at the young age of thirteen.

Oh well. Curves were overrated.

Just as Astoria finished that thought with a snort of amusement, the door swung open with a bang, accompanied by the indignant squawk of Apollo. Concern sailed through her like a moon-brightened knife and she slipped off the stool, throwing a quick smile at the plump seamstress, and gathered excess material in her fists so she could swiftly make her way to the front without tripping. First, her eyes flew to Apollo to make sure that he was unharmed, and once she was satisfied his squawk was only because he'd been startled, she looked to the trio of bored-looking boys who had entered the store.

"Draco Malfoy," she said, surprised, and the pale boy's cold eyes swung over her, barely interested. It didn't really surprise her- she'd been to his house before, because his family was part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight too, but somehow, she just hadn't expected to run into him here. This place was filled with the warmth Madam Malkin exuded, and Draco Malfoy was a block of ice.

"Oh, hello, Draco," said Daphne, who had appeared at the end, and when Astoria looked at her, her chin was up and her face was composed. Gone was the laughing sister she knew as a child and nowadays, only unveiled herself when it was just the two of them. She understood it though. They were purebloods. They had a reputation to uphold.

Which reminded her...

Astoria straightened demurely and nodded politely at Malfoy's companions, two hulking boys who she knew by sight alone.

His pale eyes flew over her from head-to-toe and his lip curled slightly, though she couldn't imagine why.

"Aren't you a little young to be here without Mommy Greengrass?" he queried indulgently, and Astoria's eyes sank from his at the derision riding his tone, instead settling on a patch of dust on the floor. She didn't say anything, instead twisting the interior fabric of her pockets, and wishing she was brave enough and clever enough to snap something witty back at him.

o-0-o

Astoria stared at the stool on which some boy named Josh Garner sat, a drooping, raggedy hat settled on his amber curls. She swallowed hard. She was definitely feeling a bit sick now, her stomach churning like one of her mother's beauty potions.

A particularly large rip opened in the side of the Hat and it announced in a boisterous roar that was echoed by an eruption of applause, "HUFFLEPUFF."

The boy smiled weakly as yellow-clad table erupted into cheers, even a few hats thrown into the air in celebration as the new student joined their golden ranks. Astoria worried her lip, guiltily hoping her own reception would be as warm at the Slytherin table. She knew it wasn't going to happen though, because if they were anything like the Slytherins she'd met, they'd be aloof and cold.

Oh well. Friendliness was overrated too. Besides, Daphne was there.

Though she knew her name was about to be called, her stomach still dropped to her feet as she watched the stern, bespectacled witch with her graying hair pinned back into a bun look back down at the scroll and call, "Greengrass, Astoria!"

Hardening her resolve, Astoria walked forward with her shoulders so straight they ached, vividly aware of too many eyes boring into her back. She sat down on the stool, her eyes finding Daphne's, and her sister shot her a secret grin that was meant only for her. Even as Astoria returned it, hoping her nerves weren't showing, her eyes shifted along the table to another Slytherin whose eyes were stabbing into hers like a needle into a pincushion.

The platinum-gold hair was unmistakable, as was the faint sneer lingering around his face. The disdain made Astoria shrink back and her toes curl, which she instantly detested herself for. She shouldn't fear him. He was only a boy. Only an arrogant, ignorant boy who knew nothing of her and who she was.

The Hat slid over her eyes.

"Ah," said a familiar voice in her ear, and she realized a moment later that it was the same the Hat had used to belt out the lyrics of the new Sorting song, though now much quieter, for which she was grateful. "I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Miss Greengrass."

A tingle prickled down her spine, but a moment later, she realized that the Hat must have plucked her from Daphne's memories during her own Sorting.

"Quick, aren't you?"

Moistening her lips, Astoria was suddenly struck with the absurdity of what the rest of the student body must be seeing- a girl with a dirty hat on her head, and then her tongue creeping out to lick her lips from underneath the brim. _Weird._

 _You tell me,_ she answered after a moment, wondering if it would even work. Technically, it should, seeing as the Hat was supposed to be able to see everything in her head. She supposed that meant it could also see that time she'd cut Daphne's favorite dress to shreds because they'd had a terrific argument and when she'd sneaked away from a fancy party and left a would-be suitor (though she wasn't supposed to have heard that, but closed doors only muffled so much) behind to settle in the indent of a tree root with a thick, well-loved book of fairy tales.

She grimaced, but she didn't really regret that last one, though she knew her parents would have wanted her to. He'd been a pompous prat and not at all fun. He didn't even know how to play Gobstones! She'd like to know what self-respecting witch would have spent any more time with such riffraff.

"I see plenty of wisdom and compassion- oh yes, but that's rather complicated by this wad of self-preservation, hmm? A strong mind, a quick mind, but you want to be a follower. I wonder why."

That made her frown, a spark of defiance flaring to life. _I'm no follower! Besides, don't you know why? You're the one in my head!_

"I don't know because you don't," answered the Hat, and if a hat could laugh, this one sounded like it might.

She frowned, not understanding and getting a little impatient. She didn't remember the Sortings before her taking this long. _Could you- Do you mind just Sorting me please?_

"Very well. Better be..." The Hat was silent for a moment, mulling it over, and Astoria relaxed with the thought that she would soon join the Slytherin ranks like generations of Greengrasses before her.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The call bounced back at her off the walls, hideously loud.

Astoria's body went rigid.

No. No way.

Horror flooded over her like a river of nightmares, suffocating and dark and cold.

 _Wait- You've made a mistake. I'm supposed to go to Slytherin!_ she thought frantically, despite knowing in her bones that a Sorting couldn't be reversed. Why, oh why had she sassed the Hat?

Before she could further demand an answer, the Hat was being lifted off her head, and Astoria couldn't move from the stool, like someone had glued her there. She stared dumbly at the table beside the Slytherin one, and though a few people there looked as shocked as she did (probably those who knew of her family's reputation), the rest were cheering. Some were bouncing happily in their seats, others demurely clapping, and still others couldn't be bothered to pull their eyes from the books they'd sneaked under the table.

Slowly, very slowly, Astoria unfurled from her seat and walked towards them.

She met Daphne's eyes. She didn't know how to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that she didn't _mean_ to- That this wasn't- That she hadn't- She _was_ Slytherin!

It had never occurred to her that she might be anything else. Sure, sometimes she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling her parents what she really thought. Sure, sometimes she didn't always enjoy the parties they threw or didn't quite know how to uphold the family name when Daphne did it so easily or she mistook when she was supposed to speak. Sometimes it tired her, trying to remember it all, trying to balance the pressure of being a Greengrass and just being _herself_. But she was Slytherin. She'd been born and bred Slytherin. She was as- as ambitious and shrewd and cunning as any Slytherin. _More_ than some! She knew she was! Everyone she'd ever known had told her she'd be a perfect fit for the Slytherin House! And how could she not? It lurked in the recesses of her mind, woven irreversibly in her DNA. In the flow of her blood, in the very air she inhaled, she was Slytherin.

And yet, here she was. Standing in front of a table occupied by students with blue-striped scarfs thrown around their necks, the mighty eagle rippling on the tapestry uniting every person at this table. Except her. Not her, never her, she didn't _belong_ here!

It made her feel small, but not as small as she knew she would feel when she stood in front of her parents and told them that- that... That she was _not_ Slytherin. That she had apparently _never_ been Slytherin.

Her sister looked shell-shocked, like someone had just told her that her home had blown up. Like the sky was falling. Like someone dear had just turned traitor.

Astoria dropped into a chair at the Ravenclaw table, and as the cheers died away, Daphne couldn't seem to tear her eyes from the dark-haired girl for whom she had saved a seat beside her. She stared back, pleading without making a sound.

Then Daphne turned her back, and it _hurt_. Hurt more than the time Daphne had screamed at her or when she'd tattled on her to Father. Hurt more than when Father forgot her birthday or when her Mother told she was expected to marry a man she picked out for her when she got big enough. That had been the kind of pain she'd dammed up or gotten over or just been a simple case of a family being annoying, but _this_... This felt like she was being abandoned because she'd slipped, because all along she'd been a raven in a den of snakes, and she didn't know how she'd tipped the balance. She knew what she'd done wrong, but she didn't know how she'd done it.

She looked down at her clasped hands, furiously blinking back tears.

"Chin up, Greengrass," said a voice, and Astoria looked up through tears that, against her will, spilled down her cheeks. A young boy several years older than her was smiling down at her kindly, his curly black hair almost bluish in the dim lights of the floating candles, and her eyes dropped to the P-embossed badge pinned to his chest.

She sniffed slightly, plucking a napkin to clear her nose and swipe the tears from her cheeks. The stranger was right. She was a Greengrass, even if she was a Ravenclaw as well. She had to pick her head up, to make them believe that she was still as proud a member of the Greengrass family as she had ever been.

The duty had never seemed so daunting, nor so very much like a task.

"There are worse things to be, you know," he told her, and she watched as he scooped up several roasted potatoes with a spoon and plopped them on her plate. "I hope you like potatoes? You won't find any better than here. Oo, look, chicken. And peas!"

Astoria couldn't stand the thought of eating, but she didn't see a point in _not_ eating. She had to eat. She knew that. She needed to eat so she could gain strength and then figure this out, so she nodded silently as he piled food on her plate.

The prefect chatted easily about the various kinds of foods, about the teachers, about how she'd love the castle, about the best stories from last year, about what Quidditch player had messed up which move, and various other harmless, friendly tidbits. At first, Astoria couldn't stand to listen and just wished he'd go away, but gradually, she began to listen. This Ravenclaw wasn't so bad, and neither were his stories.

"What's your name?" she asked softly, as he finished telling her what food the Hogwarts House-Elves were _especially_ known for (potatoes being the top of that list).

"I'm Adam Puckle. Nice to meet you. You'll like Ravenclaw," he reassured her, smiling at the newest Ravenclaw first-year who plopped exhaustedly into the seat beside Astoria and began dragging every plate of food towards her that she could reach. "Well, assuming you like a lot of grumps and shelves full of books and lots of unresolved debates."

She cracked a weak smile. "Is that really what Ravenclaws are like?"

Adam shrugged and swallowed his mouthful of peas, his blue eyes watering at the scorching heat of the food, but his tone still managed to sound nonchalant, "Eh, pretty much."

"Good," said the girl on Astoria's other side, shoveling so much food into her mouth that her words were barely discernible. Astoria wrinkled her nose in disgust, but the girl went on, unhindered. "I'll need lots of intellectuals to challenge me."

Astoria found herself smiling at the stranger, despite her...odd, eating habits. "Oh, yeah? What's your name?"

She swallowed with difficulty and inclined her head pompously in Astoria's direction. "I'm Linda Trillisi. You're Astoria Greengrass, aren't you? I've heard of your sister, and I remember you because you were as white as a...cloud, up there."

A stab of renewed guilt ripped through her, but she firmly ignored it. She'd deal with it tomorrow, when she had time to think. She blinked a moment later, her mind snagging on the last simile instead of dwelling on the embarrassment that accompanied that incident. "White as a cloud? Not as a sheet?"

Linda shrugged. "I don't like cliches."

Adam laughed, and Astoria felt a smile curl her lips upward, even though she shouldn't be enjoying herself. She was supposed to be thinking up ways to get into the Slytherin house, after all.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes seeking out Daphne, but instead they latched onto Draco's greyish-blue ones. Borrowing bravery for a few moments, Astoria frowned at him. _Why do you keep staring at me?_

With a faint, careless smirk, he lifted his fingers, hooking his thumbs together and pumping his fingers up and down, reminding Astoria of a bird in flight. She raised her eyes to his cruel, mocking expression, and that rankled. Who was he to judge her? Sure, he was the son of the Malfoy family, but he wasn't part of _her_ family.

And just like that, she was feeling reckless and daring. She'd already done the worst that she could do, so who cared if she gave Malfoy a piece of her mind before the dark waters closed over her head?

So before she could overthink it, Astoria stuck her tongue out at him.

Then she turned resolutely back to the table, straightening her spine with the decision to act like being placed in Ravenclaw had not rattled her at all, only to find Linda swapping a curious look between her and the pale Slytherin boy.

She shrugged and stabbed a piece of chicken. "He was making fun of me."

Linda snorted. "Beat him in the next test, then."

Astoria spent the rest of dinner talking with Linda, who turned out to be very smart, and Adam, who reminded her of a puppy. He seemed like the type of person who'd hate to have anyone mad at him, and the kind to think quietly when others thought he'd been daydreaming out the window. Punctuated through the dinner came stabs of guilt for genuinely liking these people, and the knowledge that she should be with her sister sat heavily on her chest. But with the knowledge that Malfoy was watching her came the suspicion that others probably were too, sharks watching for weakness, and that hardened her resolve to show none.

She knew Daphne would forgive her, though. She always had, and Astoria had always forgiven her in kind. Sometimes it took weeks, but she would. She knew she would.

As the hours wore on and Astoria's eyelids drooped, the food in her belly a warm and comforting weight, she allowed herself to let go of the worries of tomorrow.

Then Dumbledore stood and announced that they should go back to their common rooms, and Astoria's eyes latched distractedly in the silvery gleam of his beard. _Huh. Pretty._

"Come on," said Adam, rising and nodding towards the doors. "It's pretty far, and we should get there before you guys get too sleepy to remember the way."

o-0-o

Astoria had walked up dizzying flights of stairs, passed portraits that murmured to themselves and sassed the students, and crossed stairwells that moved. The excitement of the castle chased away her sleepiness for the moment. She'd watched silvery-white ghosts pop in and out of the walls, she'd cocked an eyebrow at the cackling Peeves as he zoomed past her fellow first-years, and she'd watched with awe as Adam led the herd of first-years through the twisting labyrinth with ease.

That was when Astoria decided that she was going to learn the ins and outs of the castle just as well. She wanted to know how to tame this- this majestic creature that was Hogwarts.

And her first expedition would be to locate the Slytherin common room. Then she'd make Daphne talk to her.

Astoria came to a halt, Linda nearly bumping into her back, and she rolled her eyes at her. The other girl made a face back, and together, they looked up at the stretch of pale, aged wood with honey-colored circles spreading out from knots like ripples in a pond. In the center was a bronze knocker, fashioned to the shape of a bird in flight, and Astoria watched with interest as its beak opened and a musical, feminine voice emerged, "I'm tall when I'm young and short when I'm old. What am I?"

The eagle was met with silence and Astoria shifted, wondering what she was supposed to do. She knew what the Slytherin common room looked like, both the exterior and interior, from stories Daphne and...basically everyone she knew, had told her. This was new territory. But... Ravenclaws were known for their cleverness and- and value of knowledge, so Astoria supposed it must be waiting for an answer to the question. It was a riddle.

"Is it Yoda?" Linda piped up from beside her and Astoria looked at her incredulously, wondering what on earth a 'Yoda' was, and opened her mouth to ask. She was interrupted by the eagle clicking its beak three times, before it repeated the riddle.

Adam raised an eyebrow and said, "Anyone have a guess?"

Astoria nibbled on her lip, brow furrowed in thought. She wanted to solve it, not just because excelling at things- even in the place where she wasn't supposed to be- would surely be what her parents wanted her to do, but also because she liked riddles. She liked puzzles. She liked the surge of pride she felt for herself when she solved it, all on her own.

Several guesses flew around from the more outspoken first-years, like a campfire, a giraffe (she wasn't sure where they were going with that one), a tree being cut down, and others. She thought about everything she'd seen this fateful day. About the winding train like a crimson snake, the food trolley piled high with sweets, the ragged Sorting Hat's shouts echoing throughout the hall, the Great Hall full of flame-topped candles, the way the light illuminated her sister's shocked face- Then it came to her in a flash.

"A candle!" she blurted enthusiastically before she could remember that Slytherin ladies did not ' _blurt_ ' anything, and to her delight, the eagle said, "Excellent."

Then the wood panel slid past, revealing an airy room with bookshelves tailored to fit the circular shape of the common room. The azure carpet was so thick it looked like grass, the arched windows hung with blue and bronze silks let star-sprinkled light in to permeate the tower, and in the niche facing the cluster of wide-eyed first-years was a marble statue of a young woman.

Adam led the way inside and Astoria followed at once, wanting to investigate this new place. Linda crowded closely behind her, along with a number of other first-years.

Linda made a beeline for the bookshelves full of bound tomes and her other classmates examined the chairs and tables scattered uniformly throughout the room, but Astoria approached the statue of white stone, looking up into the beautiful face of who could only be Rowena Ravenclaw. The artist had captured the teasing half-smile on her lips, and had even sculpted a diadem on her smooth brow as well as a slender wand pointing at an angle towards the floor. Her expression was that of a sleepy snake.

Minuscule words were etched on Ravenclaw's diadem, not unlike fairy writing, and Astoria glanced over her shoulder to make sure Adam was otherwise occupied before clambering up on the plinth and leaning up on tiptoe to squint at them.

 _'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.'_

Astoria tilted her head slightly, unsure of what to think of that. Being smart was good, but being loyal was better. Being loyal to her parents, to her bloodline, to her legacy... It was the most important thing of all.

But as she looked at those tiny words, she couldn't help but think she'd failed that when the Hat put her here. Worse, she couldn't help but think she had failed when she realized she _liked_ it here. She liked the way the riddle made her think, and she liked the wide view of the mountains the common room provided. She liked the way the ceiling was painted dark blue with little shimmering stars like blue ink dotted with salt, and she liked the bookshelves with their seemingly neverending supply of books. She liked Adam Puckle. She liked Linda Trillisi. She liked Rowena Ravenclaw's statue mounted on her dais, and she liked how her expression prodded her to dig up as many answers as she could coupled with the teasing promise that she'd never collect all there was to know.

"Astoria, what are you doing?"

The words weren't loud or particularly admonishing. Just a gentle, firm kind of rebuke and she looked up, nevertheless startled, and then hopped off the statue with an apologetic glance cast Adam's way. "Right. Sorry. Just wanted to read the inscription."

Adam's face softened and he nodded, then indicated the two doors on either side of Ravenclaw's statue. "Right dorm is boys, left is for girls. You lot ought to go there now. Go on." He nodded at them, herding the others from all edges of the common room, and Linda climbed the stairs beside her. Astoria looked over at her and smiled a little, and Linda smiled back, the kind of humbling gratitude reflected in both girls' eyes, both the black and the brown. Whatever happened to them tomorrow when everything began, they would not do it alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Astoria swiped her quill under her chin, dragging the filmy feathers against her skin one way, then the other, and back again. Her dark, ebony eyes played over the fluffy turrets and swirling hills the clouds created, looking as soft as pulled cotton candy. She wondered if there was a spell to bring a cloud to earth and...weave into a cloak, perhaps. Or shape into a animal, like those funny Muggle men who shaped balloons into flowers and poodles and the like.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Astoria jumped so hard her knee knocked into the underside of her desk and, wincing, she looked up. The one, mad blue eye of her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher glared into her. It reminded of her the day she looked up from a book into the startlingly vivid, almost painful light of her father's lit wandtip. It was the kind of look that punched. The kind that made her want to shrink backwards, and that weakness was exactly what made her spine stiffen in defiance.

"Are you hoping to learn a Shielding Charm from the sky, Miss Greengrass?" he asked gruffly and she flushed a little in spite of herself, closing her hand on the spine of her book, and she shook her head.

"No, sir. I'm sorry." And she meant it. After all, she _was_ in the wrong, this time. Her family wouldn't have wanted her to mess up in the first place, but surely would have wanted her to own up to it.

He harrumphed at her and returned to teaching, directing his wand at the board. Blocky lettering formed across it with a flick of the slender wood, and with another, they enlarged enough for even those in the back row to see.

Smiling slightly in affection of the brusque professor, Astoria reached into her bag and pulled out a fresh roll of parchment.

o-0-o

Astoria walked along the brightly-lit corridor, flipping through her newest choice of a spellbook, this one having to do with how to invent a spell. Her idea in Defense Against the Dark Arts had intrigued her, enough so to pull her mind from the lesson at hand, to Moody's chagrin.

She frowned at the pages, munching on a crisp green apple in one hand without looking from the book balanced open in the other. It looked complicated. Really complicated. As she was browsing what to do first, what resources she'd have to dig up, she heard malicious words magnified to what seemed to be a purposefully loud volume.

"And there's a picture, Weasley!"

She paused mid-chew, looking up curiously, and found herself directly outside the Great Hall with a small crowd of students who had apparently stopped for the same reason that she had.

"A picture of your parents outside their house- if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

With a sinking feeling in her stomach like the sail of a boat being cut free, Astoria snapped her book shut and slipped it into her bag, then moved closer. She was still small enough to slip through the crowd of older students, from natural frailty and the fact that she was twelve years old.

As she knew he would, it was Malfoy who came into view, flanked by the huge, chortling forms of Crabbe and Goyle. She couldn't even remember which guard dog was which, and she didn't try. Instead, she searched for the Weasley Malfoy was directing his words at, hoping that it wasn't Ron or Ginny, because the first was short-tempered enough to attack the heir of the oldest, most influential family in the Wizarding world, and the second was a friend. As much as a Gryffindor could be her friend, anyway. She had omitted that particular friendship from the monthly letters she wrote to her parents.

Her gut sank, a pebble settling against the bottom of a riverbed.

Ron Weasley stood about ten feet away from the pale, pointed bully, visibly trembling with the restraint it took to keep himself from attacking. Harry Potter was quick to leap to his defense.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy." Then he murmured something to Weasley that Astoria couldn't catch and she breathed a soft sigh of relief as it looked like the red-headed boy would leave with his friend.

Then Malfoy had to sneer- "Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" His name slipped off his lips, encased in loathing and derision and a thousand other things that made Astoria glare at him before she could think. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know _your_ mother, Malfoy?" Harry shot back, and Astoria sucked in a quick breath as he seized the back of Weasley's robes. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Astoria's breath caught, trapped between shock and the almost overwhelming urge to laugh. She couldn't help it. _She'd_ never been able to stand up to Malfoy, even if she'd always wanted to for as long as she'd known him, and it was gratifying to see someone else do it.

Malfoy had a flush in his pale cheeks. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry as he turned away, pulling Weasley with him.

Astoria gasped as Malfoy whipped out his wand and directed the tip at Harry's back- and she was frozen the spot, unable to tell if she should act like she wanted or stay passive like she knew was her duty- and then BANG!

The spell erupted from the end of his wand, but in the light that lit up the hall, Astoria screwed up her eyes and wondered what she was seeing as it faded.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

She spun and there was Professor Moody, limping down the white stone staircase, his wand pointed right at the- the...

Astoria stared, blinking several times to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.

An albino ferret sat, shivering, on the floor. Precisely where a wild-eyed Malfoy had just been.

Did he just- Did he just turn Malfoy-?

If she had been able to tear her eyes from what was once a haughty boy that she wouldn't admit scared her, she would have seen Moody turn to Harry and ask gruffly, "Did he get you?"

"No," answered Harry, bottle-green eyes wide with awe and a touch of shaky admiration. "Missed."

As they spoke, one of the hulking boys approached the quivering ferret and stooped to lift it tentatively, as though unable to believe his eyes. Astoria knew she was still having trouble believing hers. The urge to laugh was there yet again, pressing on her throat and trembling in her lower belly.

The guard dog had made a mistake.

"LEAVE IT!" shouted Moody, causing every student there to jump once more.

"Leave- what?" asked Harry who, like Astoria, thought the professor was talking to him.

"Not you- him!" growled Moody, jerking a thumb over his cloaked shoulder at Crabbe, who had frozen in the act of picking up Malfoy. The ferret. The ferret that was Draco Malfoy. _That_ ferret.

A laugh, bubbling and unstoppable, rose in Astoria's throat and she hastily bit off another chunk of apple to muffle it. She turned away to hide her face, covering her mouth, her face growing red with the effort of stopping the amusement that burbled to life. Her eyes caught Daphne's, and her sister frowned at her, but that only made Astoria giggle even harder and nearly choke on the sweet-and-sour fruit.

The thunk of a wooden leg on the stone floor made her look up, seeing Moody stride towards the Malfoy-ferret, who squeaked in terror and darted away like a white slash streaking over the flagstones towards the dungeons. Astoria couldn't blame him, but she covered her mouth and choked on a laugh anyway.

"I don't think so!" yelled Moody, brandishing his wand once more, and the second-year Ravenclaw gaped at him as yet another jet of light struck the ferret. He flew into the air, claws flailing helplessly, and then hit the floor with a terrific smack.

Astoria covered her mouth, eyes huge, and her amusement was wiped away by horror. He could seriously hurt Malfoy! This had gone too far. But what could she do? She was just... She was just _her_ , a disgraced Greengrass, and Moody was a full-fledged Auror. He caught the wizards her parents associated themselves with for a living.

But as the ferret bounced upward again, squealing like a piglet, she couldn't keep silent. "Professor Moody. Hey- Professor Moody."

Dozens of eyes turned to her and she shrank back, biting her lip, before reminding herself that she was a Green- No, she was _Astoria_. That had been enough to help her face her parents' wrath, her sister's hurt pride, and her own doubts. It would be enough to face Moody too. It had to be. Again, the fact that she wanted to shrink made her spine straighten and shoulders square and eyes become level. Though the flush in her cheeks probably gave away more than she wanted it to.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned. Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do," Moody informed the ferret before, at last, both eyes turned to hers, but kept Malfoy bouncing off the floor like he was playing with a yo-yo. He waited, grizzled eyebrow raising as Astoria tried to find the words to articulate what she was feeling. It was hard when she could feel everyone's eyes on her, like a thousand beetles crawling over her skin.

She steeled herself, met Moody's mismatched eyes, and waved at Malfoy, wincing as he hit the floor once more. "You're hurting him."

It sounded feeble even to her own ears.

 _Smack_ went the ferret. _Plink_ went a pin against the floor.

"Stop," she elaborated, the pregnant silence only fueling her self-consciousness.

Moody opened his mouth and she steeled herself for the backlash, but she was saved by a shocked voice carried towards her over the heads of her classmates. Sailing towards them with a stack of books in her arms was Professor McGonagall, her eyes followed Malfoy's progression through the air. "Professor Moody!"

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody politely.

Astoria shut her mouth and backed up, into the crowd, a tight knot in her chest easing at the sight of the Head of Gryffindor. She wanted to be brave, she really did, but she was glad she no longer had so many eyes on her. McGonagall would take care of it.

"What- What are you doing?" she asked, still staring at the ferret.

"Teaching," said Moody, in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

It took her a moment, but she figured it out in the middle of a word, "Teach- Moody, _is that a student?_ " she shrieked, the books tumbling from her hands.

"Yep."

"No!" McGonagall's wand slashed through the air and with a loud snapping noise, Malfoy (now thankfully human) sprawled on his back, usually sleek blond hair stuck all over his pink cheeks. He pushed himself to his feet after a moment of lying there, gaping in pure horror at the ceiling, and much as Astoria disliked him, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Her dislike was, she knew with a grimace, unfounded. He was pureblood, Slytherin, from a well-respected family, and only treated those who were naturally inferior to him as such. Or at least, that was what her parents told her, but the day Astoria was nominated a Ravenclaw, she began wondering and poking and pulling from Samuel and Alyssa Greengrass. Sometimes she felt like the lone thread in a tapestry that slowly unraveled from the rest.

Whatever they told her, Malfoy was a bully. However much influence his family wielded, she did not want to pander to him like she saw Daphne- her proud, beautiful, smart sister- do every day. She couldn't describe exactly what was so wrong with that, but she knew it made disgust and anger twist up in a hard knot in her belly, and it made her respect for her sister lessen every day like water taking away bit by sandy bit of a golden shore.

Astoria hardly listened as McGonagall scolded Moody with increasing ferocity as the seconds ticked on, her onyx eyes on Malfoy as he straightened his robes and avoided everyone's eyes. She wondered if it had hurt enough to make tears spring forth.

She bit into her apple, shifting the strap of her bag so it stopped digging into her shoulder, and watched as Moody hauled Malfoy towards the dungeons with a growled threat of speaking to Snape.

Taking the last bite of her apple, she tossed the core into the trash, keeping her eyes on Malfoy's retreating back as she thought. And then, slowly, an idea began to form. An idea that sprung half from cunning and the other from compassion. She expected the first was probably due to growing up with three Slytherins in the same house. The second... She didn't know where the second had come from, but she knew it had no place in the pureblood mantra her parents upheld.

But however much she'd tried to deflect and dodge and evade it, she was not her parents. The knowledge weighed heavily on her. She had failed them. She wondered how long it would take before they realized what they'd raised.

She grasped at the fraying threads of the only life she'd ever known.

So what if she felt sorry for someone she detested? No one had to know. No one need ever hear the tiny doubts that had sprung from the back of her mind, no one ever had to know that she was starting to wonder if this red-tinted world was one in which she belonged.

She'd find a different way of being their perfect pureblood princess, even if she lost some of her perfection along the way. She didn't know if such a thing was possible, but she had to try. They were her _parents_.

Pulling out her wand, she siphoned the juice from her face, and came to a decision.

She pocketed her wand and followed the boy she knew was a bully, the one she knew had nothing to hide from his parents, because he was everything they'd ever wanted.

 _I can be, too_ , she insisted. _I will be, too_.

o-0-o

Astoria had followed the grizzled professor and his reluctant charge for a while, wondering how to best approach them, and she could feel her confidence seeping away the longer she stayed back. Doubt was starting to climb up from the recesses of her mind, her hesitation making her remember that handling a snake was better left to those who could charm them into submission.

Finally, as they neared Snape's office, she steeled herself and walked forward with her chin tilted up.

"Professor Moody."

He turned, his silver-streaked mane clinging to the cloak he never went anywhere without, and watched as the Ravenclaw girl came forward. His drilling gaze made her have a hard time meeting his eyes, whether electric blue or beady black. But the knowledge that he intimidated her made her determination harden all the more, curdling to something hard and fierce deep in her belly.

"Save it, Miss Greengrass," he said gruffly. "If you're here to fight on this scum's behalf again-" he shook Malfoy's shoulder none too gently, and the boy shot him a look of pure loathing- "you can turn back around and go to your lunch."

Astoria lifted her black eyes to his, words clumping on her tongue, wondering why she had thought this was a good idea. Malfoy was staring at her, icy eyes narrowed, but she couldn't judge whether it was from derision or calculation or curiosity.

She drew herself up.

"Malfoy needs to tutor me."

Moody's expression didn't change, and she felt her hopes sink and dissipate like they had never been. Malfoy was still staring at her, a furrow between his pale eyebrows, but she didn't look at him. Her courage rapidly dwindled.

"Does he now?" asked Moody slowly, and the question caught her so off-guard that she blinked, losing the false poise she gathered to herself as a shield for a moment.

"Uh- Yes. Yes, he does," she answered, more firmly. "I have a- a test next period and I have to go over...er..." For the life of her, she couldn't think of a subject. Those bi-colored eyes were drying up her reserves of words, and she wanted to shrivel on the spot.

"Transfiguration," supplied the last person she expected to come to her aid (even though it was to his benefit, too). Both professor and girl looked at Malfoy, who was glaring at Moody once more.

Moody didn't look convinced. At all. With a surge of embarrassment, Astoria remembered that he'd been an _Auror_. He could probably see through her lie like it was glass.

So she dropped the pretense. Or, well, half of it, anyway.

"Professor Moody, with all due respect, I need a tutor _now_ and turning him into a ferret will ingrain your lesson into his brain better than trying to convince his favorite teacher to punish him."

Astoria licked her lips, watching the corners of Moody's mouth twitch like he was about to smile, and hardly daring to hope that that meant she'd been successful. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked furious, high color rising into his cheeks. That made her own lips try to curl upward, and she was suddenly struck with how ridiculous this situation was. Here she was, trying to protect her enemy who was supposed to be her greatest ally, with the argument that being turned into a ferret was probably the worst punishment any student would ever get.

She bit back the urge to start giggling.

Convinced her eyes were betraying her, Moody let out a slow chuckle and released his grip on Malfoy's shoulder. "Alright, Greengrass, you win. Good luck with your Potions test."

"Thank you," she said, relieved, and watched him clunk away. It was as she glanced up at Malfoy, the other half-reason she'd rescued him lining her lips, the one that sprung from cunning, that the professor turned at the end of the hall and called, "Miss Greengrass?"

"Yes?" she asked, head snapping around.

"I thought your test was in Transfiguration."

It took her a moment, but when she realized her stupid, stupid, _stupid_ mistake, her eyes widened and her lips parted and she flailed for words to remedy the situation.

Moody grinned and walked away, rounding the corner, leaving a very confused Ravenclaw and a near-hissing Slytherin behind.

Swallowing with difficulty, hardly daring to believe her scheme had actually worked, wondering what the heck Moody was thinking, she turned to Malfoy and realized... She'd done it.

She grinned. _Holy heck, she'd actually done it._

"What?" he snapped.

Giddiness lent her courage. It made her laugh instead of cringing backwards, as Malfoy's razor words always made her want to do. It was easier to back away than to meet his eyes and tell him what she thought, because when she became afraid, her words became muddied and blurred.

But right then, she just laughed. She knew something he didn't. She had him now. She'd _won_.

" _You_ ," she said, still grinning so widely that it hurt her cheeks, "owe me a favor now."

He stared at her, eyes starting to narrow as he processed what she was saying. "Don't be a stupid Ravenclaw, Greengrass, people will talk about you more than ever. You, like any pureblood, are obligated to unstick any situations like that from me because of who I am. _Duh._ "

Astoria, still riding on her high, refused to let his sourness wipe away her smile. "You know what people will talk about even more? A Malfoy who can't keep his honor intact."

He sneered. "You're one to talk, _Ravenclaw_. Tell me, did Mommy Greengrass faint on the spot when she heard?"

Her good humor faded. At first, as she stared into his cold gaze, she felt...crestfallen. She'd hoped that he would- She'd wanted-

Fine. Whatever. Wishing that he'd thank her was a fool's hope. But what made anger start to trickle in from all sides was the knowledge that he was right. The fact that the Hat had sorted her into Ravenclaw wasn't as big as the problem that she genuinely _liked_ it there. She liked the people and the way it challenged her and how she didn't have to tear herself two ways in order to steady the boat.

And she hated that he knew as well as anyone else that it made her so, so unforgivably different from who she was supposed to be. Who she _wanted_ to be.

"You know what, Malfoy?" she snapped, fury and frustration mingling to form something like courage. "I am a Greengrass. I'm a pureblooded witch. My lineage is just as long as yours, my family is just as prestigious as yours, and my name is as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight as ever. Even if I was a Hufflepuff, my blood is going to stay the same. And I just saved you from a month of detentions, so man up and admit that you owe me."

Her lips snapped shut, her dark eyes widening as she realized what had come pouring from her mouth, but she didn't regret it. Not at all. It made her feel powerful. The fact that somehow, she was able to throw some fight back sometimes, even though she may very well have just offended a very important Slytherin, created the illusion that she was his equal in all but height. _He deserved it._

She glared at him. _You deserved it_.

Besides, she'd been protecting her name and her pride. That was surely allowed.

Malfoy's sneer was still in place, but she waited with bated breath, trying to exude confidence and poise. She hoped he didn't realize how very nervous she was.

"Pfft, fine," he answered after what felt like hours, and she blinked, opening her mouth before she could reconsider.

"Wait, really?"

He looked at her and she flushed. He smirked.

"Yeah, Greengrass. Call me generous, call it a favor for Daphne to entertain this playtime of yours-" she scowled at him- "and I am kind of curious as to what you'd ask of a Malfoy."

He shrugged and looked away, and her lips twitched with the reminder that he was probably still shaking off the ordeal of being turned into a ferret. She was torn between feeling sympathetic and wanting to laugh.

Realistically, she knew flattery was probably the best way to mend the damage she'd surely done, even if he wasn't showing it. So, cringing slightly at what she was about to do, she said, "Well, I'm glad you're upholding the family honor like a proper Malfoy."

She'd meant it to emerge less condescending. Oops.

Annoyance flashed across his pointed features, he threw her a look that could've curdled milk, and he stalked away so stiffly it looked like a metal rod for a spine. Haughty and royal like a peacock too proud of flashy feathers. "You're a God-awful liar, by the way."

Astoria watched him go, unable to help feeling that this time... This time she'd won.

She grinned.

* * *

 **Special Disclaimer: The famous scene with Malfoy as a ferret, along with the dialogue included in it, does not belong to me. Well, most of it. XP**

 **Also, can we just acknowledge what a sasster Harry is? Please? XD**


	4. Chapter 4

**Trigger Warning:** Vague hints of abuse

* * *

The train trundled over rickety tracks, the hum and buzz of chatter under its scarlet roof not enough to drown out that clackety noise. Students from all houses mingled and laughed, raced down the corridor past glass doors, and munched on candy from the cart or smuggled on up sleeves and in boots. In one such compartment sat a tall Asian girl with a book close to her face, a pile of sweets heaped beside her (obtained the proper way), and on her other side was Astoria Greengrass.

The dark-haired girl stared out the rain-streaked window, propped-up chin digging into her palm.

"Ready to go back home?" queried Linda without looking up from her book, startling Astoria out of her thoughts.

Her stomach dropped at those words, at the thoughts that came with it. Back to the house imbued with chilly silence. Back to the house where she spent most of her time in her room, distracting herself with books she'd already read and reread.

"Not really," she admitted, and Linda's eyes raised to meet hers at last. She steeled herself for the questions. Even after two years of knowing Linda, of sharing a room with her, of sharing every last secret except this one, she couldn't bring herself to talk about her greatest failure.

Instead, she asked with a curious blink of those umber eyes, "What were you thinking about?"

The barely-there tension uncoiled from her shoulders with those uncharacteristically unpushing words, and she was so surprised that the words tumbled out of her mouth without permission, "Draco Malfoy."

 _A Few Weeks Ago_

"You're doing it wrong. Do you know any other way to do it?" that voice sneered, cracking over her head like a thorny bramble, stinging even after the words had faded.

She glared at him over her shoulder, her dark hair tossed by sass and by the wind, and adjusted her grip accordingly.

"No, not that way either. What, are you only a fledgling raven?"

"Then _teach_ me, Malfoy, don't just yell at me," she very nearly growled, if she hadn't caught herself in time. _Ladies don't growl._

He scowled, circling over her like some weird bird of prey (a _buzzard_ , fumed Astoria vehemently), and came to a light landing. He swung himself off the broom, his acrobatic grace exaggerated, and her brow furrowed with annoyance as she realized he was doing it on purpose. _Typical Malfoy swagger. It's probably genetic._

When she'd asked him- as a _favor_ \- to teach her to fly, she'd meant for him to teach her, not- not- _whatever_ he thought he was doing. It had taken her a long while to think of a proper way to utilize the favor she could take from him, but well... Then her mother dusted off her pale skirts and informed her in an offhand way that Quidditch was a reckless, rash sport. A way for guzzling thieves to win more money off children batting balls at one another.

And in a reckless, rash fit, Astoria asked Malfoy to teach her how to fly. She would get on the team. She'd be a _Beater_. Because in the moment she asked him, watched his pale eyes narrow in surprise, she didn't care if she stepped on her family's toes. She didn't care if she cut across Slytherin's guidelines. Because right then she had felt like Astoria the Lady no more, but Astoria the Rebel, and it had felt good. She'd surprised Malfoy and she'd surprised herself, and it felt like a rebellion to even like it; and she liked not just the realization that she did not have to do what she was told, here at Hogwarts, but also the rebellion itself. It was a chin-thrust-out, eyes-flashing, hands-on-hips kind of rebellion, and Astoria liked that defiant fire that licked at her insides when she'd marched up to him, tapped his shoulder, and asked him ever-so-politely to teach her to fly. The surprised silver brow that shot up, turning his sullen expression comedic, hadn't exactly hurt either.

Even if now, as he dismounted his broom and shot a scalding glare her way, she was having second thoughts in her choice of a teacher.

He strode towards her, sleek blonde hair almost silver in the sun's dying light, and reached impatiently for her hands. She jumped slightly at the unexpected touch, nearly jerking her hands away from him, and he snarked without looking at her, "You're skittish as a hare, Greengrass. What, does your father throw things at you for fun?"

Astoria pressed her lips together, anger roiling in her gut, before she remembered that to wield rage as a weapon was the fiery Gryffindor's approach. But to beat a Slytherin...

Before she could reconsider, she lowered her voice slightly, taking on a serious edge, as she answered ever so softly, "Sometimes. Not for fun, but- Sometimes."

His pale fingers stopped rearranging hers into the proper grip to lock his eyes on hers for a moment, and Astoria felt triumph begin to bloom in her gut as she realized she'd struck him speechless. If only for a moment, but she'd done it.

She grinned. "I got you."

Malfoy pushed away from her with a huff, eyelids lowering sardonically, "You're a regular comedian, Greengrass."

She snickered ( _ladies don't snicker, Astoria!_ ) and stuck out her chin. "Serves you right."

"Are you going to learn, Greengrass, or just laugh at me?" he threw her words back at her with a twist, watching her with a decidedly unamused expression on his face.

"Maybe I could learn, if you were a good teacher." Who knew one could tease a Malfoy without having their head bitten off. The grin that bloomed across Astoria's face was brighter than the riotous color of a sunset.

"Maybe you could learn if you had half a brain."

 _Oh, that's not funny._

She glared at him, mirth gone. "Maybe you could teach if you weren't so awful at it."

He snorted. "That doesn't even make sense. Aren't Ravenclaws supposed to be clever?"

She flushed. "Aren't Malfoys supposed to be good at everything?"

He smirked, the confidence radiating off him tripping up Astoria's own force. "I am good at everything, Greengrass. You're the one who's as earthbound as a clod, and about as sharp as one."

She shut her mouth and glared at him, cheeks red. She couldn't beat him at his own game. For every inch of ground she gained, he pummeled her backwards, _effortlessly._

He made it look so easy to strike people down.

And she wanted to be the one to strike him with some of his own medicine. She wanted- She'd wanted to be the one who would stand up to him, no matter what, and she could deal with defeat some of the time, if only she were able to knock him off his feet every once in a while, too.

So when Astoria found she had failed yet again, proven by that ever increasingly smug face, she dug in her heels.

Dug them in _hard_ and strangled that wooden handle in her grip.

And when she pushed off the ground, she pushed off as hard as a baby turtle pushing for the sea.

She soared.

The wind rushed past her ears, her heart pounding with a battle-cry beat, her long hair swept on like a black banner. The ground rushed away from her, her feet dangling in open air.

She squeaked and clutched the handle, leaning forward until the wood lay flat against her abdomen.

That was a mistake.

She shot forward like a spear, spurred on by the wind, and gasped as she pelted for the stands. Wooden beams swallowed her vision and she couldn't brake- she had no idea _how_ \- Her heart beat out of her chest, fear flaring bright, and she slammed her eyes shut-

 _Crunch_.

Pain exploded, slamming into her, pummeling her, squashing her flat against a wooden beam. A cry wrenched out of her and she fell, another hard plane crashing forward to meet her. She thudded against the ground, pain shooting up her palms and reverberating through her hip and shoulder. Something cracked and a fresh wave of agony enveloped her, starting at her wrist and rippling outward, ragged edges biting into her.

Sobbing, Astoria ripped her eyes to the point of fiercest pain. Her wrist... Her hand...

She stared at it, momentarily shocked out of crying.

It was bent at such a strange, grotesque angle, her fingers useless. The joint throbbed and Astoria screwed her up her eyes against it, choking on another sob that fought to rip from her.

Feet thudded against the ground near her and she looked up through watery eyes at Malfoy, who was staring at her, his face white.

 _White as a cloud, white as a sheet_.

She was so dizzy.

"Astoria!"

His voice was so loud. She flinched away from him, but her body screamed in answer and a wail tore her throat.

Then he was gone. A receding speck in her wet gaze and she could do nothing but cry and wonder why he was gone, and wonder why she had expected him to do anything else. _Malfoys wait for no one._

She curled up over her injured wrist, her muscles shrieking, and gasped for breath. The rough slide of air down her throat felt like metal scraping against sandpaper.

She didn't know how long she was there. Long enough for the sky to grow dark, the sun slipping behind the hills. It chose to abandon her, too, the light unwrapping its slender fingers from her and receding as soon as it realized she was weak, weak, _weak_.

 _So weak._

She shuddered, everything throbbing, but there was only so long she could stay there before she began to focus less on the pain and focus more on pitying herself.

And when that happened, she lifted her head, errant strands of dark hair cutting her vision into stripes.

 _Get up_.

She shifted slightly, the first movement she had made in a long while, and the pain renewed itself in a punishing lash. She grit her teeth, another tear squeezing out from her eyelids as she slammed them shut. But she refused to stop. There was no one here, no one but herself, and defeat was unacceptable.

 _I am not defeated. Not now, not ever_.

It was these words that she repeated to herself, over and over again, as she unfurled further and further. Everything hurt, tiger's claws and jaws that sank past flesh and into bone.

"Astoria!" called a new voice, blessedly familiar, though mangled by fear. " _Tori!_ "

"Daphne?" she asked, looking up hopefully, and sure enough, there she was. She ran across the field faster than a thestral taking flight, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall close behind her. Another figure, slender and straight, strolled across the field behind them, but Astoria only had eyes for Daphne.

Then she was there, jasmine's sweet scent enveloping her as Daphne flung her arms around her and pulled her close. She buried her face in her hair and Astoria shut her eyes, relaxing against her. Daphne was here.

"Move aside, dear," said a gentle, firm voice, which Astoria recognized hazily as the nurse's.

She felt Daphne's body tighten briefly with hesitation, before she moved aside, giving Madam Pomfrey a clearer look at her.

"What did you do, darling?" she asked, business-like as her eyes darted with professional certainty from the mangled wrist to the bruises surely blooming like mangled orchids all over her.

"Crashed," she said, her words distorted by thickening saliva, and she swallowed in order to be understood. "I crashed into the stands."

"What were you doing flying in the first place?" asked McGonagall sharply.

"Practicing," she murmured, leaning against Daphne. "I want to be a Beater."

"A Beater?" asked Daphne, the end of the question rising in higher pitch than the rest, surprise thick in her voice. "But you know Mother doesn't want you to play Quidditch, Tori! And I can see why!"

A tiny spike of annoyance punctured through the shrieking complaints of her body.

"I can play!" she defended herself in an instant, pushing away her sudden doubt. "Just because I crashed once doesn't mean I can't play at all!"

Daphne opened her mouth, her expression taking on the forbidding, older sister face that would likely lead to her trying to order her not to play Quidditch anymore, but Astoria was saved the lecture when Madam Pomfrey directed her wand at her wrist.

" _Episkey_ ," the nurse said firmly and before her eyes, her fingers straightened, the crack sealed, the pain fading to a vicious memory.

"Thank you," she said quietly, flexing her fingers, and watched as the nurse waved her wand to wipe away the other traces the beating had left on her. She opened her mouth to say more, to ask how they knew she had needed them, when the figure striding across the field made her words dry up.

Malfoy had come back.

Daphne leaped to her feet, sparks fairly flying off her blue eyes, thoroughly startling Astoria. With a squeak, she lost her balance and had to slap a hand against the earth to steady herself.

"What?" he had the gall to ask, raising an eyebrow at the furious Greengrass.

" _What?_ " she repeated. Astoria looked between the two of them, as nonplussed as Malfoy.

One silvery brow was fanning upward, the rest of his face utterly immobile. "If you have something to say, say it."

"You left her!" she spat at him, and Astoria's eyes grew big at the sight of her elder sister losing her composure so thoroughly. In front of a Malfoy, no less. Her rapidly rising annoyance must be silencing her worn-out cautions that this was _Malfoy, Draco Malfoy_.

"How else was Madam Pomfrey supposed to get here?"

She blinked, her anger tripping before it finished boiling over. "That- Was you-?"

He rolled his eyes, a sneer twisting his lips in a manner that was all too familiar. "Madam Pomfrey, did the crash somehow addle her brain, too?"

She bristled, opening her mouth to throw something that would very likely be equally insulting in his face, before Astoria took things into her own hands. She seized Daphne's hand and hauled herself to her feet, eliciting a gasp from her sister, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her. She squeezed her hand, hard, and it halted the curling lash of sass on her tongue. Daphne looked at her, her blue eyes fulminating, but Astoria's onyx ones were the balm to her jagged edges. The same message: _This is a Malfoy. He can try to ruin us, and he might very well_ succeed.

She hated being afraid of him as much as Daphne did.

Teasing and playful jabs were one thing, but _this_ was thin ice. And if her sister was the fire that would burn wherever it touched, she would need to be the water that could glide easily over that icy, delicate surface.

"Thank you, Draco," she said simply, her cool facade of Astoria the Lady sliding back into place, and Astoria felt Daphne's hand tightened into fists over hers. They should not have to grovel to anyone. "For-" she stumbled slightly over her next words, sorting out which her pride would stand. "-retrieving Madam Pomfrey."

He scoffed and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Of course, Fledgling."

Astoria's dark eyes snapped at him, but as always, the dark-haired, different Greengrass bit her tongue and said nothing.

 _Present_

"How could you?" she burst out, turning to glare at Astoria, who flinched. But she lifted her head, resigned, and watched her sister storm towards her.

"How could I what?" she asked tiredly, hoisting her suitcase off the carpet and onto the sleek wood floor, unzipping the silver snake of a zipper, and removing her clothes. It was the first time they had been alone since that day, when they arrived home at last. There had been parents to deal with, other students on the train, and it was only when she had tried to escape to her room that the ever-fuming Daphne pounced. She forced the full story out of her on the train, and Astoria was rather regretting that decision now, watching her sister practically breathe fire.

"You gave in to him! Practically cringed before that pompous, pure-blood prince!"

Astoria gave her a sharp, searching look. So her lovely, wild-hearted sister would not mentally scrape and bob before him as she had believed she did. It was a relief, one that settled against her chest and kept her warm.

"He did save me," she said, having to pry the words from her tongue. _I would have gotten up on my own. I would've found a way._

"No, he didn't," she answered, stung. Perhaps because it was the truth.

Astoria shut the clothes in her drawer with a _snick_ of wood against wood. "Now you're being petty."

"No," she said contrarily, digging in her heels against the fact that Malfoy _wasn't_ to blame. "He left you on the ground!"

"To go find Madam Pomfrey!" Astoria protested, exasperated, exhausted, unsure why she was even defending the boy who had nothing for her but cruel smirks and unrelenting jibes. "What are you even so angry about, Daphy-Taffy? What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter!" she cried, her voice rising.

"Really?" asked Astoria sharply, standing to face her, her own anger rising in answer. "I don't believe you. You've been angry, and brash, and rude, and far more likely to blow up than usual. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

Astoria stepped closer, putting her hands on her hips, and glared at her. To her surprise, Daphne didn't meet her eyes. It only reinforced her suspicion that something was very much the matter.

She reached out a hand and let it rest against Daphne's slender, bare shoulder, her thumb brushing against the thin strap of her summer dress. "Daphne. It's just me here. Tell me what's wrong. _Please._ "

Daphne lifted her eyes to Astoria's, and for a moment, Astoria thought she saw a fleeting vulnerability in those bright blue depths, but it was gone in a moment. Only pricker bushes and red sparks and stubbornness as high as the mountains their home resided in.

She batted Astoria's hand away. "I told you there's nothing. And even if there was," Daphne turned her nose upward, a resurgence of the cruel girl Astoria had helplessly watched her sister turn into over these past few months, "I'd hardly tell you. You _groveled_ before him. Believe me," she hissed, snapping a hand up to blockade Astoria's protests, "I know we have to maintain a balance with the Malfoys, but we also have our own pureblood pride to think about, and you _ignored_ it."

Astoria went cold as Daphne's eyes turned to ice.

"You disappoint me."

* * *

 **A/N: Quick time for me to jump in and say that when this chapter hinted at abuse in a... _joking_ manner, that is not coming from me. It's supposed to show just how messed up of a situation Astoria is in, I'm afraid, and I thought it was ugly enough to fit and she was naive enough to not notice. :/ I mean no offense. :(**  
 **This chapter gave me issuuuuues. Real hard to write, for some reason. So hard, in fact, that I have to split into two parts. I know I've been laying out each chapter as each year that Astoria grows older, but the next chapter will pick up where this one left off.**  
 **Also, thank you to all of you who have reviewed/f** **avorited** **this story! I really appreciate it!**


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